Puerto Rico, 1932

I reckon I made somebody's day yesterday. At least I hope I did. My class this week had been talking about Red Lobster all week. So I told them I'd take them to lunch on Friday, but they had to let me drive because it was easier. After an unexpected discussion about just who was authorized, rental car insurance wise, to drive the van, I won and took the wheel. 2 are from Hong Kong, 2 are from Singapore, and 1 is from Taiwan. When asked where we were going, I replied, "Hooters. Or Wing House. Whichever I pass first." So when I pulled up into Red Lobster instead, they were pleasantly surprised. But that's not the day that was made.

As I got close to home on my return commute, I prepared to turn off of an abyssmally choked SR 60 and onto Kings Ave. where I live. I was far right, as opposed to FAR OUT!, I suppose. It was a turn only lane. From the corner of my eye I caught a white Oldsmobile coming straight at me from 2 rows over to the left. Seems that guy needed to turn, and the guy immediately next to me was letting him in. It was apparent that either he didn't see me or was gonna play chicken with me for the spot we were both about to try to occupy. I tried mightily to get out of the way, but I was smashed anyway. That, also, is not exactly where I made somebody's day. But we are actually getting close.

I got off of the road and watched to make sure he followed me. At this point I had still not seen the driver, so I didn't know if they were male, female, old, young, wild-eyed or stone faced, employed, or straight gangsta. I was just hoping 2 things: 1) That they had insurance, and 2) they followed me off the road. Both were, in fact, the case.

It was a gentle old Puerto Rican man with his wife. He quickly explained that he was not a crazy driver and had never been in an accident before. He apologized and then apologized again. He was watching my eyes intently, and I know why. Around here, all you need to do is bump another car at a stop sign and the bumpee takes the bumping as license to just unload on the bumper. Even if there is absolutely no damage. It is free license to just rant and rave; to just go off. So that's what this gentleman was afraid I might do. I can dig it.

You, of course, know better. I was smacked up pretty good. I had damage from the driver side door all the way back to near the trunk. So I had to get his insurance company to take care of it. But I was there for the whole thing, and knew the guy never saw me. And since the metal was already crunched, not much we could do now except call for a police report. Besides, anger and buffoonery takes up way more energy than it is worth. So I tend to believe it is best to just deal with the moment.

I told him, "No problem. It is why we carry insurance." Still, several more times over the next hour (the cops are not so speedy arriving at, or documenting fender benders), he tried to apologize, and each time I explained that it was an accident and, by their very nature, accidents are accidental. Instead, I engaged him in conversation and we got to talking about our homes, our travel, and whatever else came up. we just leaned up against our cars, swapping stories.

Finally, the cop was done with the paperwork. He was at fault. I was not. He got a ticket. I did not. We shook hands and exchanged our goodbyes. Mr. Delgado was not thrilled with the $125 ticket, but I could tell that it made his day that I did not make a bad situation unbearable. In fact, the experience was about as pleasant as a traffic accident can be. Hey... life's too short for all that rage shit. Less than perfect circumstances notwithstanding, I now know a good dude, family man, born in PR in 1932. A man who served 2 years in the Air Force during Korea, who became an electrician after that. A gentle man and a gentleman. I just can't see no problem with that.

The Paris Hilton photo? She was on page six when I looked up "fender bender" on google images. Seriously. So I thought, aw hell, why not? She don't hurt my eyes none.

You know things would swing if I were the King, out

Ramblin' Ed